


Fluffy Frogs and Scones

by Lady_Death_of_Nevada



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arthur - Freeform, Autumn, England - Freeform, FrUK, M/M, Yaoi, francis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Death_of_Nevada/pseuds/Lady_Death_of_Nevada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cute little fluff I thought of. France/UK, my first. I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluffy Frogs and Scones

Please be nice, this is my first France/UK fanfic. I hope it’s okay and that you enjoy it! I just love them so much and even though they bicker for bickering sake we all know that in their hearts of hearts they love each other…SEXUALLY! But really, I love them together and think they love each other. I mean they did raise Canada and America together! So here you go! 

~O~o~O~

3rd POV

It was a cool, autumn day and England had decided that he wanted nothing more then to take a nice, peaceful walk. He thought about things as he walked along the path, things he didn’t usually let himself think about, things that he was in denial about. Or rather, about one thing in particular.

England’s POV

Why can’t I get that bloody wanker out of my head!? All he ever does is talk like some kind of a rapist! But then again he probably is one. So why can’t I stop thinking about the goddamn git? Why couldn’t I stop staring at him last night, at the meeting!? And why’d his bloody shirt have to be unbuttoned just a tad bit. I couldn’t help but imagine what was under that shirt, and wishing that he’d just rip it off and- NO! Stop it! He’s just France, just annoying, perverted, idiotic, beautiful, sexy- NO!! What the bloody hell is wrong with me!? 

3rd POV 

He kept walking along, trying to get the recurring thoughts out of his head, when he heard someone calling his name.  
“England! Oh England! Look it’s me, France!” France was coming straight at him along the path, surprising the shit out of Britain.  
“What the hell are you doing here, you wanker!?” England screamed at his fellow nation.  
“I’m guessing the same as you, non?” France replied with a smile.  
“Oh, shut it,” Britain grumbled.  
“Hey, Iggy, wasn’t I spectacular at the world meeting last night? I couldn’t help but notice you couldn’t take your eyes of me.” France asked playfully, getting closer and closer to Britain, who turned away, trying to hide his blush.  
“I was not, you twat! And don’t call me that!” He shouted at France.  
“Don’t call you what, Iggy?” France teased.  
“That, you idiot!”  
“Well you don’t have to be so mean about it!” France whimpered, giving England puppy eyes. This only made him blush more. And then the thoughts of France returned to England’s head, this time worse.  
“France, I-” It came spilling out of his mouth almost before he could stop it. A shocked look appeared on France’s face, quickly turning to pleased curiosity. He crept closer to the smaller nation.  
“You what?” He requested.  
“Nothing!” Britain dismissed, but the Frenchman just kept getting closer.  
“You what?” He repeated, putting emphasis on the word what.  
“I was about to say that I wish you’d go away, you annoying bastard!” He yelled at France, his blush getting deeper and deeper.  
“Stop it. I know when you’re lying, England. You what?” He repeated once more, his face right in front of England’s, as the smaller nation suddenly leaned up and kissed the other full on the lips. France was surprised for about half a second, and then wrapped his arms around Britain’s waist as Britain tangled his fingers in France’s long, gold locks. France pulled him in closer so that their bodies were right up against each other, rubbing his hands up and down the Brit’s back. Their lips moved together as one as they stood there together, in bliss, until, to both of their disappointment, they had to come up for air.  
Britain had a shocked look on his face as he stared into France’s eyes, but standing there with him, he forced himself to relax into the Frenchman’s arms. France smiled, resting his nose on England’s.  
“You know, if that was what you wanted, all you had to do was ask,” France informed. England stared at his feet, blushing. He played with France’s hair as they stood there, the crisp air blowing against them. Neither minded though. It felt nice. And they were just happy to be together, wrapped in each other’s arms.  
“You see, I knew you loved me,” France said to Britain, who instantly let go of France, jumping back.  
“I do not, frog!” He shouted.  
“Oh, oui? Then how do you explain our little moment just now?” France giggled. Britain sighed, the blush on his face remaining.   
“Well…maybe a little bit,” He mumbled, making France grin with happiness.   
“Then you’ll be my lover?” France whispered seductively into England’s ear.  
“Shut it, you perverted git!” Britain playfully pushed France away with a small smile.  
“Well, I’m your perverted git now,” France smiled as he intertwined his fingers with England’s and they continued walking down the path as the autumn sun set.


End file.
